


The Golden Tree

by Helholden



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Death, Discovery, F/M, Family Fluff, Happy Ending, POV Female Character, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Reunions, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 17:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19381684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helholden/pseuds/Helholden
Summary: On the other side of the world-curtain, Lagertha finds someone unexpected who she thought was lost to her forever. But the window between now and forever is not as long for the dead as it is for the living.





	The Golden Tree

_* * *_

 

 

The world shone in a haze of mist from the waterfall, a prism of light breaking across her vision as she opened her eyes. She was kneeling in the grass, wet upon the knees of her shift, but the air was cool and refreshing, and she breathed it deeply into her lungs. Raising herself to her feet, Lagertha gazed at her surroundings.

 

She did not know this place. It was from nowhere in her memory, and yet it felt like home. Rushing water poured over the cliffside to her left into a pond below. She stood at the edge of the pond, hence the damp soil and grass at her feet. Lifting her shift, Lagertha began to walk towards the rippling water. The mist churning from the waterfall rose higher, tickling her face with a gentle spray. Her feet were bare, and she dipped one into the pond.

 

It was delightfully both warm and cool to the touch, and because it felt real and not a dream, Lagertha withdrew her foot and placed it on the grass as she began to glance uneasily at the land encircling her.

 

This was not Kattegat.

 

A meadow loomed over the rolling landscape to her right in all directions until a forest broke its edge. The sweet scent on the air came from yellow flowers blooming everywhere across the tall meadow grass. Lagertha parted her lips in surprise, trying to think where she had seen a meadow like this before. She had not from what she could recall, and she could not recall what had happened before this very moment in this field. Her mind was blank before her eyes opened, though she remembered bits and pieces of her life out of order, rushing back all at once and overwhelming her.

 

"Do not trouble yourself," a kind voice spoke. Lagertha looked up and saw a woman standing before her in a white gown with a wide cowl over her head, shielding her face. The woman pulled back her cowl, revealing a spill of golden curls as brilliant as the sun. "You are safe here, Lagertha. This is Fólkvangr, my kingdom," she said plainly, gesturing at all that was before them. "You have come to me, my child. In death I care for all of my children."

 

She extended a hand to Lagertha, who though hesitant, took it. The woman's hand was warm. Warmer than any skin Lagertha had ever touched in her life.

 

" . . . Freyja?" she ventured, her voice shaking.

 

Freyja smiled at her. It was beautiful, and it warmed Lagertha's heart. "Yes, that is my name. And you are Lagertha. I have heard and seen many of your tales. But come, follow me. There are matters of greater importance on which I am sure are there in the back of your thoughts."

 

The cryptic message did not dissuade Lagertha, and she followed Freyja through the field of flowers, which seemed shorter to walk than to cast one's gaze over. In no time at all, they reached the edge of the meadow, and Lagertha could make out a hazy figure in the sun running towards them from the trees. "Mother! _Mother_!"

 

Releasing Freyja's hand, Lagertha tore across the field until she ran into Gyda's arms. She clasped her daughter tightly, who had remained as a child just as she saw her last so many, many years ago. The plague had taken her daughter away from her far too young before her life truly began, but to know that she was here and safe all along brought more joy to Lagertha than she could explain. She clutched her daughter to her, crying tears of joy as she laughed happily.

 

"Oh, my dear Gyda," Lagertha murmured, pulling away to hold her daughter's face in her hands. "I thought I would never see you again . . . "

 

"Don't be silly," Gyda said, grinning back at her and holding her mother's face as well. "I've been waiting all this time, Mother." Her eyes sparkled with mirth. They were no longer milky with death — as Lagertha had once seen them. "I knew I would see you again one day. I just didn't know how long it would take."

 

"I am here now, my sweet child, I am here . . . "

 

She pulled Gyda in for another hug, holding her for what felt like an eternity.

 

Freyja did not interrupt, and when they parted at last, Lagertha took Gyda's hand and held it, afraid to let it go. "There is still more to see, Lagertha. Do you wish to go? Gyda may come with you. She is free to go where she wishes."

 

Lagertha heard her, though she barely registered what the goddess had said. So glad was she to have her child back after so long . . .

 

"Yes," Lagertha answered Freyja at last. She tightened her clasp on Gyda's hand.

 

"Very well," Freyja said with a smile. It was a cryptic smile, holding secrets behind it, and Lagertha began to wonder what was next. Nothing could make her happier than this moment, but then she remembered she had not seen her own mother since she was just a girl as well.

 

They walked together towards the forest, but did not go inside. There was a trail along the outskirts, and Freyja lead the way down the path for some time until the land sloped downwards into a brilliant golden field. Wheat stalks grew high, swaying in the gentle breeze.

 

Down at the base of the rolling field, Lagertha saw a mighty thatched building with a roof gleaming pure gold in the sunlight. It was enormous, sitting on the edge of what appeared to be a mountainside cliff. Another waterfall poured over the rocks on the opposite side of the cleft, and towering trees grew in green patches around the hall.

 

Before its gates at the front, a mighty golden tree glistened with morning dew. Lagertha felt her breath catch in her throat. She knew where they were now, and the closer they got, she could heard the cheers inside of the hall. Cups and goblets clinked, fists beat on wooden tables, and men and woman alike roared with laughter from within.

 

Lagertha stopped, holding onto Gyda's hand with both of hers to steady her faltering heart. "Why are we here?"

 

Freyja paused, too, turning around to gaze at her. She smiled again, though this time it was teasing. "You will see if you come."

 

It was an offer, not a demand. The goddess would not make her do anything she didn't want to do. It was all about choice. Well, she was dead now. What else was there to fear?

 

Drawing in a deep breath, Lagertha marched on with her daughter at her side. Gyda squeezed her mother's hand as if to assure her, but it did little to quiet Lagertha's trembling soul.

 

As they approached Valhalla, the golden hall was a sight to behold. Bright golden shields made up its roof, while spears had been constructed into its rafters, and shimmering silver chain mail hung over the benches outside on its porch. There was a large goat roaming the grass, chewing on golden leaves peacefully.

 

A dark figure was approaching them from the walkway leading up to the great hall. The closer it got, the more it looked like a man. Lagertha felt the similar sensation of trepidation come over her, heavy in her chest. If her hands could be clammy, they would be right now.

 

He drew closer until he stopped completely, and Lagertha could finally see beyond the sun haze what she was missing.

 

His same dark hair was cut the way she remembered it, and his face seemed new and fresh but still his own — his shock was as clear as hers, and he began walking again, not running, until they were just a few feet away from one another.

 

He was unmistakable. It was him. Here, in Valhalla, where only those who die nobly in battle go to feast with Odin until the end of the world.

 

"Do my eyes deceive me?" Heahmund asked aloud, though it was to no one in particular. It seemed more for his own benefit. He took a wary step forward, but he would not move again. "Lagertha," he called out in a hoarse voice, bright eyes shining with desperation, "is that you? Are you standing now before me in this strange place, or have I gone mad?"

 

Lagertha could not stop herself. She released Gyda's hand and ran to him.

 

He stumbled back as he caught her, and Lagertha did not care. She kissed him, long and hard, cupping his face in her hands and feeling tears prick at the edges of her eyes as she felt the scruff of his beard scratch her skin. He was real. Everything about him was real. Even in this place made for the dead, he was wholy himself.

 

"Heahmund," she whispered against his lips, smiling at last, and then grinning. "Yours eyes do not deceive you any more than mine deceive me. You're here . . . "

 

"I don't think I was meant to be," he answered softly, cupping her face as well. "I was in battle, fighting, and then I died . . . calling out your name. Next thing I knew, I woke here with all of these strange men and women I do not know . . . "

 

Lagertha kissed him again, only softly this time. A touch of lip to lip, feather light and meaningful. She pulled back, whispering to him as she looked into his eyes. "It was meant to be if you are here. Our gods heard your call and spared you from your worst fate . . . they brought you here so that we may meet again as we are now . . . "

 

"Why would they do such a thing?" Heahmund countered, though it was obvious they had and his mind had not made sense of his displacement yet. He had been here for some time, lost and confused and possibly afraid for his soul . . .

 

"Our gods grant many wishes," she responded, smiling at him to ease his worry. "They have granted mine as well as yours. Christian or not, you had a death worthy of Valhalla. Your spirit is strong. Stronger than many of my people, or you would not be here."

 

Heahmund swallowed, staring back at her. His fingers curled a loose piece of hair behind her ear. "I do not even know if I am a Christian any longer for being here. I have debated it long and hard since my arrival—"

 

Lagertha shushed him with her lips, sealing them over his mouth in a quick kiss. "No more," she said as she pulled away, trying to comfort him. "Please, be at rest with me now. I did not know I would ever see you again."

 

"Nor I, you," he murmured, burying his hands in her hair and pulling her close again. "If this was the will of the gods, then I am beholden to them . . . "

 

"Be beholden to me," Lagertha whispered, "and do not leave my side again." It was a plea, not a demand.

 

"Never," Headmund answered, and she felt all of the pain and worry in the world melt away as Gyda crept up to her side and held her shift, tugging only enough to remind her mother of her presence. Lagertha freed one arm for her daughter's shoulder, keeping the other around Heahmund. Gyda leaned her head against her mother's side.

 

One day, far in the future she hoped, Bjorn would join them and she would have all of her family together again.

 

For this was paradise, and all of her dreams made true.

 

"May we go inside?" Lagertha found herself asking, looking over her shoulder for the goddess, Freyja, who had led them here—but the goddess was gone as if she had never stood there in this first place. She reunited them, and then she was gone. Her purpose completed for them.

 

"I do not see why not," Heahmund said, pulling back far enough to finally see Gyda was there was them. He looked surprised, but happy to see a child instead of all grown men. "And who is this beautiful girl with us?" he asked, resting his palm over her Gyda's hair. Gyda smiled up at him.

 

"My daughter," Lagertha said proudly, rubbing her hand along Gyda's back.

 

Heahmund found himself grinning at last, too. He looked at Lagertha. "She is as beautiful as her mother. I am happy to see you two together again." He did not have to ask. He knew Gyda had been taken away from her far too young, for far too long.

 

"Come," he said, placing one hand on either of their backs as he led them towards the golden hall's doors. "There is food and drink inside, a feast beyond anything you have ever imagined in all your life . . . "

 

"I know," Gyda said. "I sneak in from time to time."

 

Lagertha laughed, loud and clear. She has not heard anything so amusing in such a long time. "Of course you have, my sweet Gyda."

 

Gyda made a face. "I am hungry, though . . . "

 

Another laugh, this time from Heahmund, filled the air. "Then let us get you something to eat," he said, and it seemed as if all his worries had left him at last. Together, they walked to the great double doors of the feasting hall. As Heahmund opened them for Gyda and Lagertha, a roar of raucous voices flowed forth into the quiet meadow.

 

Freyja smiled to herself, petting the large goat who still chewed on a mouthful of leaves, and walked off into the mist at the edge of the land, disappearing beyond sight.

 

 


End file.
